


Fall In Love And Get Married- Isn't That Shit Like, Crazy?

by thepointoftheneedle



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Juice bar au, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24354730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepointoftheneedle/pseuds/thepointoftheneedle
Summary: This is an AU Bughead wedding. I have this headcanon that Jug is a huge Jeff Rosenstock fan.  If you don't know the album "Worry" then you need to reassess some of your life choices. Really, I'm going to be strict about this. I'm not very interested in dresses and cut flowers and that kind of thing so I have written about the things that show you who a couple really are, not what tradition wants them to be. There's a sports juice bar. I indulged my infantile love of puns a little. It's just fluff.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 31
Kudos: 47
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	Fall In Love And Get Married- Isn't That Shit Like, Crazy?

The lights in the room went down and a large screen lit up. A completely white room filled the shot and then a young woman in a Pink Floyd T-shirt, ripped jeans and huge twenty eyelet boots walked in front of the camera with a smile. Her hair was violet. “Hi everyone. I’m JB Jones. Because our bride and groom have slightly unconventional families they decided they’d forego traditional speeches so you get this instead. This film is my wedding present because I’m a struggling artist unlike my commercial sellout brother with his New York Times bestseller. I hope you like it. She walked back out of shot, her boots thumping against the floor. There was a cut and a beautiful woman appeared on the screen, obsidian glossy hair, dark glittering eyes, stunning brows. Out of shot JB’s voice said “So just say your name and then tell us about how you know them. OK? Whenever you’re ready.”

“Hello, my name’s Veronica Lodge. I was a friend of Jughead’s first. We met in a coffee shop in Williamsburg. He was drinking a caffé mazagran and we started talking about The Beauty Myth. It’s a book by Naomi Wolf about how women, well how everyone really, is oppressed by unrealistic ideals of beauty. So he’d read it, obviously, and I could see that he was sort of smiling at the fact that I could barely turn the pages of my feminist tract because I had this insane manicure. And I saw him smirking and I thought to myself goddamn it he’s right. It is absurd. So we got talking and he started telling me about his novel.” There was a snigger from behind the camera. “I know right? The feminist guy with the mazagran, telling me about his novel. Only in Williamsburg. So, as I say, we get talking about privilege and how to recognise it and his gender studies courses in college and Kate Millett but I start to worry that he’s hitting on me which would be a shame because yes, he’s really interesting and funny in this very dry, kind of sardonic way but he’s just not my type. As everyone knows I like a straightforward, uncomplicated beefcake.” There was a yell of recognition and applause in the room but on the big screen Veronica was continuing. “So I say “Look, not to be rude but you aren’t about to ask for my number or something are you? Because I’m enjoying talking to you and if this is just your move then I’ll be disappointed.” and he says that he has no game, no moves at all and that that is his tragedy and that he’s not going to hit on me because he’s head over heels in love with a girl who is both out of his league and probably about to bang his dearest friend. He actually said head over heels. I thought that was so cute. And I love a star crossed love story, especially with this precious feminist hipster man as a protagonist so I became intrigued. 

“Anyway he said that he understood that it was a bad look to be the privileged white guy whining because he didn’t get the girl like she was some sort of prize for not being a sex pest and that it didn’t matter anyway because he couldn’t betray his friend. Obviously I asked if he’d offered her his heart and she’d demurred. Knocked him back. Shot him down. But of course he hadn’t. He began to see that he had no right to choose for her but he couldn’t get past the idea that he couldn’t do anything to hurt his friend who he talked about in this completely loving and accepting way. It was so beautiful. I asked how he knew that the girl, I found out her name was Betty, how he knew Betty wanted the friend and he said that he imagined that any woman would want him because he was kind of an Adonis. Ripped. Handsome. And a genuinely good, heart on his sleeve, honest, open, kind man. Which I found out later he actually is.” More cheers echoed around the room along with a degree of bro back slapping.

“And since we had established that we weren’t into each other in that way I told him that most girls would think he was what is generally called a yummy snack.” There was a terrible groan from behind the camera at that. “Well he is JB. I can’t help it. He’s tall and slim and the hair is miraculous given how he mistreats it. So then he blushes and even I nearly weaken because that is a very appealing blush.” 

In the room a chorus of female voices simultaneously go “Awwww,” as the aforementioned blush is demonstrated live. 

“So I say that I think that he shouldn’t just write himself out of the competition and that the girl should be allowed to choose for herself.” 

The same female voices were raised in calls of “Preach sister” and “That’s right.” 

“Anyway I lay some truth on him about how working class guys like him grow up being told that women are to be protected, cherished, put on a pedestal but then they see the world treat us like lesser beings, doing the garbage jobs for no money. So they imagine we must be just too good for the world. Then add a college education to that, they read their de Beauvoir and realise that women are really smart but have been kept down. So then they form all these weird ideas where we are still fundamentally different to men but instead of being worth less, they imagine that we are worth much more. It’s still sexism because it’s imagining that women are defined by gender but it stops guys from cat calling so it’s a partial win. And in Jug’s case things are little more complicated because of family dynamics that implied to him that a son is worth less than a daughter to some people and you have a perfect storm of low self esteem and a refusal to put himself out there even though he’s a really great guy. One of the absolute best ones. Oh dear, you’ll have to cut. I absolutely will not cry on camera. Cut, cut.”

There was a quick edit and then a new face filled the screen. A young man with red hair, deep brown eyes and a ready smile.

“Just say your name Arch and then talk about how they got together. Right?” said JB out of shot.

“OK. I’m Archie Andrews. Jughead was my college roommate. He’s my best pal. Betty was my next door neighbour when I was a kid. We used to ride our bikes together and stuff. She wrote pretty much every English paper for me in senior year of high school so that I could graduate. There’s a statute of limitations on that shit isn’t there? They won’t take my diploma away will they?

“So I own a sports juice bar in Williamsburg, if anyone doesn’t know that. Great value, the Garden Shred, ten percent discount to anyone here today. So Jug was working for me when he was hawking the first book around to publishers because they were too dumb to grab it right away. So he came to work in the juice bar. He’s really smart so he came up with all the names for the drinks. Some of them are really funny. We do one with activated charcoal, coconut water, lemon, and cayenne that he called Juice Wayne, like Bruce Wayne, because it’s black so it looks like Batman. He came up with the name of the place. Garden like all the fruits and veggies and Shred like you get shredded at the gym but it sounds like shed, as in garden shed.”

“OK Archie. What about them?”

“Oh right yeah. So I’d sort of lost touch with Betty after high school. She went to Berkeley and I went to Columbia on a football scholarship. Some of you know that I lost my dad in senior year so when I went to college my mom moved to Chicago and so I didn’t see Betty for the holidays and I’m bad at keeping in touch so…all my fault. Anyway, my mom called me and said Betty wanted to get in contact because she had gotten a job in Manhattan. Then she just shows up at the Shred. And when I see her I’m really surprised and all but like the most surprising thing is Jug, who’s serving, is being all charming and witty with her. Because normally, sorry man but it’s true, normally he’s a little bit socially awkward and even a little grouchy.”

There were cries of “A little bit!” and “He’s weird, he’s a weirdo.”

“So he’s being really nice to her so I realise that he likes her so I start trying to get them together. I say she can always have free drinks at the Shred to get her to come in, I ask her to come to our apartment for take out, I start asking her to go out with Jug and me but he always bails at the last minute so I don’t know what’s going on. When she came into the Shred they did this thing where they’d laugh at those inspirational quote signs. They’d both say one and then really laugh. I don’t really get it, like some of those are pretty cool, “Live, laugh, Love” or whatever.”

There was an explosion of giggling from the front of the room which continued for some time alongside Archie’s narrative.

“So they would say these quotes and laugh but then one day he just stops and she says one and he doesn’t say one back. Just nods. I know she likes him because she’s always disappointed when he doesn’t come when we go out. He goes out when she is coming over and I can tell it hurts her. So I’m getting mad at him for kind of leading her on and she’s sad because he’s ignoring her and he just seems mad and miserable and I have no idea what’s going on. Then he starts to mention this girl Veronica so I assume that he has decided that he likes her instead but when I ask him he says they’re just friends. It was just really confusing. Anyway one day Veronica comes into the Shred. He curates a drink just for her and she puts it on her instagram and it gets all these hits from celebrities so I’m really grateful and I go over to say thanks and…Well I guess I fell in love.”

There are choruses of awws from all over the room and one voice saying “Oh Archiekins.”

“I can tell Jug is mad with me because I’ve just started talking to this girl who came in to see him so I just say “Look Jug I really really like her but I don’t want it to cost me our friendship.” And he says that it’s not about Veronica. That she’s just a friend and he’d be happy for us to go out together but he’s mad because of Betty! Which is weird because he’s more or less ghosted her. But it turns out that he thought that I liked Betty or she liked me or something because I told him once, years ago, that I used to think that we’d get married. I’d almost forgotten that but Jug never forgets stuff. So he’d been keeping away from her because he thought I liked her and I’d been trying to get them together. And Betty just didn’t know what the hell was going on. So anyway he goes off to see Betty and the next thing we know they’re boyfriend and girlfriend. At last.

“Thanks Arch. That’s good.” There was an edit and the filmmaker stepped in front of the camera again. “Hi again everyone. You’ve heard the background. I’m going to read you an essay now. My brother wrote it and I stole it.”

“It hadn’t been any part of my plan to wind up cold pressing vegetable juice and smashing up smoothies for the Williamsburg clean eating, vegan and paleo crew but I needed the gig and Arch needed staff he could trust so I ended up wearing the noxious green t shirt with the pun that even as its creator, I was embarrassed about. “Garden Shred” seemed funnier when I didn’t know I’d be wearing it emblazoned across my chest. I always had faith in the book but the rejection slips were piling up and it turned out that man cannot live by online think pieces alone so I faced a choice. Either go back to my college side gig as a barista or join my best buddy in trying to make the sports juice bar work. I took into account that as a barista I was actually prepared to consume the product whereas I would not allow a drop of the pernicious green pond scum I curated at the Shred to pass my lips. But I reasoned that in the coffee shop I spent most of my time ruining great coffee by adding six pumps of ersatz hazelnut chemical sugar water or gallons of milk foam. The despoiling of the sacred bean hurt me more than the annihilation of a few nasty plants. And I was helping Archie, standing in as manager when he was away and supplying the shockingly awful puns for the menus and specials board. The bees’ squeeze anyone? (Honey, orange, frozen banana, yogurt.)

“It was strange to be both Archie’s best friend, roommate and employee. He kept catching me standing outside the door of the Shred to smoke a cigarette and getting mad with me even though the gym bunnies and jocks were relishing the chance to cough when they got within fifty yards of the evil death stick. Jogging past me to get their detox drinks was the kind of virtue signalling that some of them would have happily given money for. I suggested to Arch that he just paid me to stand outside and smoke but for some reason he was having none of it. He’d chew me out like he was my boss because he was and I’d resent it like his friend because I was but I was glad of the gig and he was glad to have staff he could rely on so we made it work. I’d stub out the butt and even pick it up so as not to litter the sidewalk outside. Arch and I have had each other’s backs since fate and student services assigned us to the same dorm in freshman year of college. People think we’re an unlikely pair but we’ve always played well to each other’s weaknesses. Archie wouldn’t let me brood alone in the dorm for days on end and I was on hand to edit and proof Archie’s assignments and encourage him when the grades got kind of dicey. I’m never going to be comfortable at parties but thanks to him I did have a social life at college. Archie was never going to love books but he maintained his grades even after he blew his knee out and pro football became an unrealisable dream. He switched to amateur boxing to deal with his anger and started a business after graduation while I wrote a novel. 

“But now, in addition to the difficulty of adjusting to the employer and employee roles, there was another wrinkle. I’d carelessly developed the most all consuming crush of my life on the girl that Archie was supposed to marry. 

Just a few days after the grand opening I’d had been at the counter while Archie negotiated the shocking price of açai. I was wiping down the machines when I heard running footsteps approaching, a little softer than the usual clientele, not a thud, more like pad, pad, pad, pad, running shoes light on the concrete. I saw the girl pause while she stopped her watch, checking her time. A Hitchcock blonde in black Lycra. She gave a little frown; she was disappointed. And then in through the door, scanning the blackboard and smiling at my puns.”

A voice in the room called out “Jug I never smiled at those puns. Not once.” 

A man’s voice said “Poetic licence,” in response. 

JB was still reading. “She looked at my name badge and she raised an eyebrow at my name or maybe the job description. Archie had insisted on calling us juice curators but how is that the best job title for vegetable annihilation? Anyway she took it in her stride and asked for a recommendation. I was going to make a concerted effort to be friendly instead of odd with this girl. It wasn’t easy. I’d never really acquired the knack of light social interaction. I’d be at some party talking to someone and notice they’d fallen silent and then I’d realise I was talking about the futility of existence or how once you’re born you’re kind of falling off a cliff and the only thing you can expect with absolute confidence is death, and then Archie or Kev would take my elbow and lead me away from whoever I’d been freaking out, sit me by the chips and tell me to just smile and nod if someone spoke to me. The thing about me is I’m weird,” 

Many voices yelled out together “I’m a weirdo,” and JB paused with a smile on her lips, anticipating the disruption that would break out here before continuing to read.

“Now, with this girl, I really needed to bring my A game so I asked her what she was in the market for and she said that she needed hydration because after eight miles running in the urban jungle she was a human crouton. I remember precisely because those were the first words she ever said to me. To avoid her crumbling to dust while she waited I poured her a glass of water and she chugged it. I like a woman who chugs a drink, fight me. I told her she could have the Cherry Stem Coco Knot, which is sour cherry, coconut water and chocolate or All Hell Broke Juice, which is watermelon, beets, black grapes and a red chilli. I may have curated juices for too long. Those recipes stay with you. And come on, they’re pretty good puns. All the time she was standing there I had this precipitous feeling, like I was standing at the top of the luge run, about to throw myself down a terrifying icy slope, excited, terrified, desperate not to get it wrong. Anyway I made her drink, she chose the cherry, and was about to take the payment when Arch comes barrelling out of the prep area saying she never had to pay and hugging her like an attacking grizzly. And she’s the girl that he’d told me about. The neighbour girl who he’d imagined marrying when he was a kid. So she can’t be meant for me because she’s already meant for him. And at the same time I hate that that’s what I’m thinking, that this autonomous human being belongs to a man, but mostly, if I’m being really honest, I hate that the man isn’t me. Archie and Betty lost touch in the same way you lose the stuffed animals and baseball cards you treasured when you were a kid. You never take the decision to throw them away but somehow they’re just gone. But she’d been found. She said she’d wanted to surprise him, that she was living in an Air BnB in Red Hook while she got settled and I felt like the cherries I’d just put through the juicer. Annihilated.

I could see that it would be a good match. They’re both attractive people, strong, athletic. I don’t want to objectify her so I can’t write a description of her that does her justice. She’s a summer breeze across a wheat field, she’s the smell of the ocean when you open a window on the first day of a holiday at the beach, she’s ironed white Egyptian cotton bedsheets, she’s a blackbird’s song on a balcony as the sun sets, she’s everything fresh and good and clean and true in the world. And it seemed to me that Archie deserved that and I didn’t and that made me sad and mad and miserable. I kept imagining these heartbreaking scenarios where they were this golden suburban couple having cookouts that all the neighbours clamoured to be invited to. I was the strange, single friend who lived above the garage, pounding out novels that no-one would publish, looking out of the window at Betty pruning the rosebushes and wishing for a different life. The fact is that I had been a teenage boy who spent most of his time in a projection booth at the drive in for various sad reasons. That wires you a certain way. Sitting in the dark, Grace Kelly or Kim Novak on the screen, those icy, clever blondes, scheming and throwing themselves into danger. The extreme closeup making them seem so near and yet untouchable and timeless. I’d thought that no real woman could live up to that. But Betty did. And she was Archie’s girl.

She ran a lot and she’d stop in for a juice and say hi. Archie would come out and they would sit and laugh about high school and their old neighbourhood but I thought that sometimes she noticed me too. There was the time she laughed out loud at the “Grapes of Naturopath” when no one else had gotten the joke. Grapes, spirulina, edamame and whole milk.”

“I never got that one,” Archie’s voice whined.

“You needed to read the book Arch,” a woman’s voice said.

“Ah well I don’t care that much.” 

Archie kept asking me to go for a drink with them or even go running with them, which was just never going to happen but I thought he just wanted his best buddy to get to know the woman he planned to marry, like be on hand to snap pictures ready to be best man at their wedding,” a ripple of laughter ran around the room, “or godfather to their enormous ginger babies. I couldn’t handle that future, I’d take passage for the Indies, become a pirate, join the Foreign Legion, anything. 

Anyway one day, in waltzes Veronica to cause a little chaos. I introduced her to Archie reluctantly but I hadn’t anticipated that I would light the fuse that set in motion the pyrotechnics that followed. I had to retreat to a safe distance to avoid being singed. To be fair Veronica had told me she had straightforward taste in men and Arch is the ne plus ultra of straightforward men. And I really do mean that as a compliment. Veronica started sipping her drink, pretending to enjoy it and showing Archie that several New York society types had liked her insta post, leaning her head against his over her phone screen. I was mad because I thought it was disrespectful to Betty. Then Archie comes over and makes this really passionate speech about how he thinks this might be the girl. Not a girl. The girl. I point out that he already has the girl and he looks bewildered. When I clarify that I mean Betty he can’t understand how I can think that. He hadn’t thought of her like that in years and I’ve been an idiot. And then I actually do run, I run all the way to her place in Red Hook because I’m too flustered to get an Uber. It’s four and a half miles. It almost killed me. I see Betty and explain all the ways that I have been a fool and she, because she is the best girl in the world, forgives me. And that’s all I am going to write about that.

“And now I get to marry her. I can’t begin to explain how that makes me feel. I'm going to try to make her as happy as I know how, she’s much wiser than me so I’ll try to follow her advice, she’s kinder than me so I’ll try to emulate her action. I honestly don’t know what I can offer her in return except a whole range of healthy juice recipes and my complete and unquestioning devotion.”

JB looked into the camera. “I had to get creative for this next part. Excuse the poor camera work but I was filming in secret.”

The scene changed to a loft apartment. The filmmaker was seated at a kitchen island while a young blonde woman in sportswear made a salad. “So Betty, getting married!”

Betty grinned and nodded. “Yep. I know it’s a big commercial cliché but I want to celebrate us with all our friends. Not like meringue dresses and stuff but just a chance to make two lives into one. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, sure. How did you know though? I mean why my weird brother?”

“Lots of reasons. I’m not going to tell his sister all of them.”

“Ewww, no please spare me anything biological.”

“So, the first time I met him he was serving juice at the Shred and I asked him what he’d choose and he said ‘A double espresso and a cigarette.’”

“On brand.”

“I know right? But I liked that. He wasn’t going to be anything other than exactly who he was, not ever. I mean you’re kind of the same. You’re you, no compromise. I spent a long time pretending to be something that I wasn’t, pretending to be the perfect student or the perfect daughter. It’s exhausting. So I love that Jug just won’t do anything inauthentic. And we like the same books. When you’re book people, that really matters. I could never be with someone who didn’t read. Once I noticed he was reading “Slaughterhouse Five” and I quoted the line where Vonnegut says that we’re all trying to construct a life that makes sense from things we find in gift shops. He knew the quote and he pointed to this pseudo vintage inspirational quotation sign behind him. Archie likes those signs but we think they’re funny. That one at the Shred says “Don’t count the days; make the days count.” I told him I had a problem with one that my mom still has in the kitchen which says “Collect moments not things,” because it’s a thing that you collect to tell you not to collect things. And because we share a sense of humour that became like a game. I’d say “Hey Jughead remember "It's not the number of breaths we take, but the number of moments that take our breath away.” And he’d say “Don’t forget, you have to look through the rain to see the rainbow.” My boss had one at her place that said something like "You're only as strong as the drinks you mix, the tables you dance on, and the friends you party with” and he said to quit because my boss was a monster who thinks it’s ok to use prepositions to end sentences with.” Betty laughed. “It’s a grammar joke." JB was just staring at her. "No well that’s the thing, we think that shit’s hilarious but no-one else gets why. "Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery and today is a gift. That's why we call it the present.” And "Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain.” They’re funny. And he’s completely generous. So when we got together he didn’t even have a publisher. We couldn’t have dreamed of this.” She gestured around herself at the apartment. “So he didn’t have much money at all. Did you know he’s always got two fifty dollar bills in his wallet, in case of emergencies?”

JB reached into her own wallet and showed Betty two fifties. “He gave me two fifties when I went to college. He said to keep them safe and if I ever needed to use them he’d replace them but if I just spent them that’d be my problem. He replaced them once when I needed a cab to get out of a bad situation. So yeah. I know.”

“Well I asked him to put up a flyer for the fund raiser for No Kid Hungry that I was organising with friends from work, you know I work with vulnerable kids right? And he grabbed his wallet and gave me the two emergency fifties. I was surprised but he just shrugged and said that he knew about hungry kids. So, I can’t say anything else about that.” She dashed away a tear with the back of her hand. In the room there were a few muffled sobs. “And the video. I think that’s when I really fell for him.” There was a cut.

From the front of the room a man said “Oh fuck, not that video.”

JB stepped forward again. “I know, I know, they’re too cute. It’s so sweet that I’ve gone beyond nauseated now. I didn’t know about the video and Betty couldn’t explain it. She just said she’d been out for a run with Archie and she’d told him she sort of liked Jug but she thought he was a bit sad and angry. Which is true BTW. And Archie said that wasn’t the real Jug and showed her the video I’m about to show you which was filmed by Archie after they’d been to a gig.” A long groan sounded from the room. "So this shows you that my brother is a dork and this lovely woman somehow digs that. Which makes them perfect for each other. I love you guys.” 

The screen filled with a New York street. It was night but the street lights cast enough light for anyone who knew him to recognise a young, lanky, gawky Jughead. He was whirling down the middle of the empty street, long arms outstretched, making forward movement but spinning and spiralling as he did so, unbuttoned flannel shirt flying out behind him, laughing and yelling something. Then he was running back to yell into the camera, “…this is not a movement. It's just careful entertainment for an easy demographic…” and the video cut out abruptly as Archie’s voice began to yell along with him.

Archie stood up and walked in front of the screen as the lights went up. “Thanks JB, you’ve made us laugh and cry with your film. Now it’s time to dance. So, if you’ll come through to the next room the happy couple will take their first dance."

A few minutes later the wedding party stood around the dance floor expectantly. Betty looked over at him and whispered, “Jug, you don’t have to dance if you don’t want to. It doesn’t matter.”

At that he stepped out into the middle of the floor and Archie ran over to press play on the backing track. He stared at his wife and took a deep breath and began to sing softly. “Someone's gonna bleed and dribble trails in the snow  
Stretching to the bus from an overstuffed home  
We begged to explode”  
He started to move in his whirling running dance from the video, continuing to sing, increasing in volume. “Betty said to me, "This decade's gonna be fucked  
Friends will disappear after they fall in love  
Fall in love and get married  
Isn't that shit like, crazy?” By the time he got to “As we’re bouncing up and down trying to make the floor break” the whole of the wedding party were pogoing in place. He screamed out the lyrics until he got to “Just waiting for someone to come and save me  
Won't somebody fucking please come and save me?  
Oh please, hurry up, someone, come and save me” and Betty was gathering up her skirt and running to him and they whirled and laughed together, crashing into their jumping guests who laughed and fell and got up and fell again. It was chaos but chaos filled with love and laughter and joy.

**Author's Note:**

> In the video Jug is singing Festival Song.
> 
> It feels completely ridiculous  
> That I'm a willing participant  
> Gazing at the purples and pinks  
> In the shadow of a bank-sponsored skyline  
> "Unite against the establishment!"  
> (While drones transmit the images  
> To a server farm in the valley  
> For a culture that'll eat its own insides)  
> Oh, they wouldn't be your friend if you weren't worth something.  
> They wouldn't be your friend if you weren't worth something  
> They wouldn't be your friend if it wasn't worth it  
> If you didn't have something they could take...  
> ... a long look at the billboards  
> That swallow the air so you can't ignore 'em  
> And glamorize department store crust-punk-chic  
> 'Cause Satan's trending up and it's fashion week  
> But this is not a movement  
> It's just careful entertainment  
> For an easy demographic  
> In our sweatshop denim jackets  
> And we'll wonder what just happened  
> When the world becomes Manhattan  
> Where the banks steal the apartments  
> Just to render them abandoned  
> Oh, they wouldn't be your friend if you weren't worth something  
> They wouldn't be your friend if you weren't worth something  
> They wouldn't be your friend if it wasn't worth it  
> If you didn't have something they could take  
> We're not stupid people, but this financial depression  
> Has got everyone believing all that we can do is nothing  
> 'Cause we organize through avenues they lace with advertisements  
> So the ones we try to rage against are still lining their pockets  
> Oh, they wouldn't be your friend if you weren't worth something  
> They wouldn't be your friend if you weren't worth something  
> They wouldn't be your friend if it wasn't worth it  
> If you didn't have something they could take
> 
> His first dance song is We Begged 2 Explode
> 
> I really recommend both the Naomi Wolf book and even more Kate Millett. I imagined that Jug had read Sexual Politics but everything she wrote was fantastic.


End file.
